Love & Pain in the Subconscious Cafe
by spheeris1
Summary: [UA, JS] Four ladies, one table


Love & Pain in the Subconscious Café

By spheeris1

Pairing(s): Utena/Anthy Juri/Shiori

Warnings/notes: All-knowing POV, angst, surrealism [prose-ish]

~~

It was crowded that evening.

If you can call someone's mind 'crowded' that is…

But it truly was--tables full, wait staff running to and fro.

And the usual things that would tip you off and let you know

Where you were…they were not there that evening.

Was it a meeting of the minds?

Was it a trick played by the End of the World?

Was it really a dream after all?

~

__

"That doesn't matter." She said, her cool and calm voice cutting across the table. She is not a princess. She is a queen. A queen of ice or stone or something else frigid or unmovable. Something all the other girls want to be. Something better than the boys can offer. Something eternal after all. But her eyes only see her pain…why does she shoot for glory when she only wants despair? 

"That doesn't matter." She repeats, answering her own question…once again…

You must stay in control, she warns her brain and her body. You must stay blocked away inside, keep the hopes and fears at bay, keep those wounds from spreading all over your skin -- it's too late for that though, too late for protection or barriers. For sitting beside her is that girl.

That girl that haunts her dreams and nightmares. That girl that drives her forward and pulls her backward. That girl. That girl.

And she wonders if she could reach over, undetected, to touch her hand. To hold it close and cherish the blood running underneath, to find the sweet innocence deep inside and place it with the picture in her locket…safe from harm, safe from inspection…safe from Juri's need to throw it all away once more.

~

No, not a dream.

Just a fantasy perhaps or a mirage during class…not as simple as a dream.

A dish is dropped. The food stains the floor and the white china skids across, 

Under the table and under the shoes.

But you've eaten here before and

You know that all the main courses are the same.

Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter.

~

__

"That is a mess I will not clean up." But no one hears her. Just as always…she has been too silent for too long. And now her voice is like a whisper against the wind. Lost or ripped away from her tongue. She fancies picking up the jagged piece of plate and driving it through her own heart.

Not to die, but to feel a brief moment of pain -- anything to tear her eyes away from her Prince. Chosen years and years ago by her brother. Chosen to suffer and to lose. Chosen like a flower--She has more in common with her Prince than anyone could guess. Weak and wanting of a dying image, a shimmering oasis of lies…and she wants to swim across the sea of sand, to find the place of eternity, to lay down her head and sleep the sleep of mummies. But instead, she watches the pattern of the tablecloth or the shades of blue shift in her Prince's eyes. She answers when asked. She speaks when spoken to. She reacts to the actions. She is a girl who became a doll, a doll that has become a woman trapped. Her smile threatens the porcelain about her face…because the smile is turning into something real. Something that is eternal. Something that shines………She wishes that she could drive the jagged piece of plate into the heart of her Prince.

Not to die, but to kill the feelings this Prince creates inside of this voodoo doll.

~

Love was always a topic, but especially so that evening.

Love and lust and longing and loss.

All the things young ladies discuss

Around the table, around cups of flavored coffee.

And the question was never asked, the curious wondering

Of whose reality they sharing?

Doesn't matter, they won't clean up the mess once

It is over….they won't clean it up at all….

~

__

"Too bitter." She says, trying so hard to sound beyond her age. But the years have not caught up to her as she sips from her cup and as she crosses her legs. She is not blind. She knows what a girl can do with her body like she has done with her body. She knows.

But she is really hiding. That smirk that cuts so deep is just a cover, just an illusion of the truth--she feels like such a child. Never understanding the devotion given to her, never grasping the agony in her own actions, never never never.

She claims to be caught in the storm but she alone provides the rain. She is the thunder, in her own mind…she is the hurricane. Out of control, tearing up the building, the roots torn from the ground.

And who will save her now? Her eyes dart to the woman beside her, someone she thought she knew and yet did not know at all. The face of her savior and the face of her shame. All the things she wants to be and all the things she hates. Everything and nothing all in one person. She believes that this is love.

And that love is merely misery.

Misery loves company. She maybe young, but these things she knows.

~

Getting late, but sometimes you stay much much later…

Chairs turned upside-down, the lights dim and the music stops

Do you pay the bill? Do you waste the money if this is all fake?

Like the stars in the sky, like the Moon and like Venus and like Mars…

Like the red sports car, like the castle, like this café….just like

This damn café…..

~

__

"I believe." She states, to no one…to everyone…to herself most of all.

She believes in love. She believes in right and wrong. She believes in freedom.

But when daylight falls, she lays awake at night -- afraid of what might happen once her eyes close. She is not used to fear…but it is hard to hide from when it lurks from within.

Fear of losing herself once more. Fear of losing something so precious to her…she does not know when she became so wrapped up in her Flower. When the petals she was protecting became her own protection…

At night, she holds that delicate hand and tries to remember a time when she did not know this girl--did not love this girl.

And she cannot remember a time before. She is a Prince. This Flower is her Princess.

She believes in a fairy tale, but is content to follow a possible lie. Her mind does warn her, but her heart cannot hear…does not want to hear….

Love is love is love is love.

She'll believe in that long after her body perishes, long after her mind stops working…long after the castle falls down to the unforgiving ground.

~

END


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